


Broken

by MeltedMoonStone



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Fantasy, Gods, Other, Poetic, Punishment, War, platonic, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21786520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltedMoonStone/pseuds/MeltedMoonStone
Summary: But now.... There was nothing left.Nothing but dust.Endless, endless dust.And a very broken boy.
Relationships: Platonic OT11
Kudos: 4





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about 2 years ago, so it's not my best work, but I still really like the meaning behind it, and I hope you guys enjoy it. If you have any questions just ask in a comment!

He had seen fire.

He had seen war.

He had seen life to its fullest and death at its worst.

But now.... There was nothing left.

Nothing but dust.

Endless, endless dust.

And a very broken boy.

~~~

A very broken boy, among the thousands of bodies.

Among the thousands of fallen comrades and enemies alike.

Among the very people who hated him, yet he never hated.

For how could he.

How could he hate, the little girl who went against her parents’ wishes and gave him food.

How could he hate, the boy down the street, that sewed him a pair of shoes in secret when winter came about, however showdy they were, for little more than a conversation.

How could he hate, the little old lady, who gave him food, and clothes, and sometimes a place to sleep, for little more than weeding her garden and afternoon tea.

How could he hate them.

~~~

The mother of four, the village uncle, the baker.

The seamstress, the preacher, the maid.

They had not been kind

But...

The twins around the corner, and the old man’s three dogs.

The cows, the sheep, the silent shepherd.

The horses that gave him rides, the wolves that gave him warmth.

The buttercups that made him smile at the turn of summer.

How could he hate them.

~~~

They were not kind, they were not gracious, they were not deserving of sympathy.

But he could not hate them.

The bruises on his ribs, the lashes on his back, the marks around his ankles and wrists.

He could not hate them.

The gods made him with love, with compassion. It was his curse.

To forever be unable to hate.

Yet, he hated this.

The bloodshed, the tears.

The silence made by the absence of life.

The smell of death, the scorching glow of fire.

At his feet laid the lives of many, the people of kingdoms and countries, of villages and states.

Of both the innocent and the guilty.

The children, the elderly.

The adults full of hate.

~~~

All he could do was watch, when the gates went down.

All he could do was stand, as the forest went up in flames.

All he could do was stare, as the few he called friends, were ended by the hands of people...

Ungrateful, unkind, unfit to rule lands.

By people who claimed...

To be protectors, guardians, saviors.

When really, all they were were foolish beings, trying to gain power where none resides and trying to find riches where all that stands is barren ground.

He had seen many wars. He had seen the end of many wars.

Through ages and ages, time and time again.

Over

And over

And over again

He has stood on golden thrones, and bloody prison grounds.

He has stood on mountain tops, and ocean bottoms.

He has stood

Besides people of many nations, cultures, personalities.

Besides those who are generous, and those who are greedy.

Besides those who are innocent and those who are guilty.

~~~

Life no longer had the innocent and the guilty.

It had the victims.

The victims of greed, self-loathing, hatred

And then their victims.

~~~

Daehwi stood in the wide open, blood stained field. His hair matted with sweat, and dirt, and more blood. None of it his own. He stood stock still, the unnatural silence oppressive, restrictive. He did not have the will to move.

It wasn’t until he heard the dull thud of footsteps over leather that he finally lifted his head. He came face to face with someone he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“... Hyung.”

“ _That’s not the country we’re in._ ”

“I don’t care,” tears welled up in Daehwi’s eyes and his voice cracked, “Hyung.”

Jisung stared at him, silent and emotionless. His hair unnaturally pristine and his robes fluttering in non-existent wind. But a second later, daehwi saw him crack, his eyes glassed over and he took a deep breath, before throwing his arms out in a silent invitation.

Daehwi lunged himself at him.

Jisung stumbled ever so slightly from the impact before twisting the both of them to be sitting on the ground, with Daehwi in his lap. He tightly wrapped his arms around Daehwi, feeling him shudder as he sobbed. Choked wails the only sound among the crackling fire and billowing smoke.

They stayed there, curled into each other, for who knows how long. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, it didn’t really matter. The fire still glowed and the smoke still suffocate them. Daehwi’s sobbs eventually turned to smalls whimpers, and then to sniffles, and finally no more tears.

No more tears to give but the evidence of previous ones prominent in the clear paths formed in dried blood and caked dirt.

Jisung gently cradled Daehwi’s face, his hands coming up to settle against Daehwi’s cheeks, and his thumbs grazing over his temples, and under his eyes. Daehwi sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

Daehwi slowly brought his hand up to lay over Jisung’s. He slotted his fingers between his before taking their hands off his face and moving them to his hair, where he then untangled their fingers and let his hand drop down to his lap, “I like it when you pet me here, hyung.”

Jisung’s hand stayed still for a moment, then he slowly moved it over Daehwi’s head, down to his nape, before repeating the motion. “ _... I thought I told you we aren’t in that country._ ”

“And I thought I told you that I don’t care.”

Jisung let out a small snort, “ _Of course. You’re still a cheeky little brat._ ”

Daehwi let out a laugh, a small, pathetic, watery laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. His face was covered in grim, his eyes rimmed red, his hair nothing but a nest upon his head, his limbs as long and lanky as ever, his skinniness evident through the large clothes he had that were basically sacks. A stark difference to Jisung, with his flowy black robs, his pale skin, and his groomed hair.

It made Jisung’s heart ache.

“Daehwi-ah…” Jisung paused. He licked his lips slightly, unsure of how to go on, but he had too, “... How have you been?”

This time Daehwi’s laugh was hollow, without any mirth or joy. “What do you think, Hyung?”

The question was full of bitterness and betrayal. Jisung knew very well just how life had been for Daehwi the past 17 years.

“You know…” Jisung sighed, “You know I couldn’t have done anything.”

“I know…” Daehwi took a deep breath, “It… it still hurt though.”

“Well, the good news is,” Jisung started. He gently moved Daehwi off of his lap and stood up before grabbing Daehwi’s hand and pulling him up from the ground as well, “You can come back now,” Jisung hesitated for a second, “If you want to, that is.”

Daehwi stayed silent.

“You don’t have to.” Jisung’s soft voice rang out.

“I want to see everyone again,” Daehwi started, “Do… do they still want to see me?”

Daehwi asked with a slight tremble in his voice that Jisung could only pick up due to his years of knowing him. It was full of uncertainty and insecurity. Daehwi wasn’t sure if he’d be welcomed back with open arms, even if they never really blamed him. The Gods did.

They had sent him to earth, as a child, cursed to live as though he was a demon. The townspeople hated him, except for the few that for whatever reason didn’t, and he had struggled to find food, and shelter, and clothing. He had been beaten and abused and made an example of what happens when your a sinner, even though he never sinned. He had just been marked, by the god of death, and thought of as a bad omen, a curse, a bringer of death that had caused their crops to fail that year, and a drought the next, and a flood the one after that.

All for refusing to kill the innocent, human child, that had found a way into the celestial lands and into Daehwi’s home, where he then kept him for almost a year before anyone found out.

To say the Gods were mad was an understatement. They were furious, overflowing with disbelief, disgust, absolute hatred of the little creature (creature to them, not child) Daehwi had held. To them it was an abomination. Nothing more than an animal which they affected the lives of, regardless of the fact that humans were the ones that worshipped them.

A human didn’t belong in the Celestial Lands, and for Daehwi to have kept it hidden for so long, added on to his crime, in the Gods’ eyes.

Thus they sent him down, his punishment to live on the brink of life or death, except he couldn’t die so it was just more suffering. To watch death and to be hated and ignored by all around him. Things the Gods knew he couldn’t stand.

“Of course they still want you, baby.” Jisung sighed. “Just come with me.”

“The gods are gonna let me back in?”

“They have too. The time of your punishment is already up over,” Jisung moved closer to Daehwi. He gently grabbed his hand, and brought him to his chest. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s go hyung.”


End file.
